The Royal Dating Game
by Sparklefarey16
Summary: When did History class become so... sexual? Someone should really fill Kurt in and - why is David sitting in Blaine's lap? And why is Flint straddling him? ... Not at the same time, of course. Klaine
1. Chapter 1

_(a/n) Okay, so I don't really have an explanation. I should be working on fics that need updates (specially my other fandom's – they've been so ignored lolsob). BUT KLAINE HAS TAKEN OVER MY MIND. And I'm quite fine with it. But my brain has all these ideas. And they need to be written out. Now. All at the same time. Anywho, this was inspired by an irl situation people. I wish it could've been this epic, but my history class… this is it. Except with girls. But who cares about them (lolthenIwouldn'texisttttttt.)_

_So yeah. Henry VIII._

_Kind of a douchebag._

_

* * *

_

"Alright!"

Professor Reinstein clapped his hands, a smile on his face that meant trouble.

History was a class that was… boring, in all honesty. In Kurt's opinion, why focus on the past? It's the present we needed to think about! After all, who knows what could happen with our backs turned, analyzing something that was already set in stone, when we had a malleable future ahead of us, waiting to be shaped and sculpted.

On the upside, they stopped learning about how all knights in medieval times basically pillaged villages and raped woman. Talking about a horny king who killed his wives when he found someone prettier and more boy-producing was much better.

For some reason, Kurt had actually been put into AP _everything_, which was currently why most classes he zoned out in order to stare at _Blaine Anderson_. Of course, that also meant that…

"Kuuuuuuuurt! Pssst. Kurt! Kurt!"

Said boy clenched his fist and closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore the ever-growing annoyance that was Wes Leung.

"What?" he finally snapped in the Asian's direction.

How everyone else ignored these two buffoons (Wes and David, not Kurt.) was beyond him. Though, Kurt swore he saw Blaine's shoulders twitch, which he was sure was a sign of silent laughter.

Kurt pouted. (And Wes and his antics were promptly "forgotten".)

"Alright, alright, settle down boys."

Oddly enough, it seemed as if the man only had eyes for Wes and David when he said this, who had been making silly faces at each other from across the room. (They had to have their seats moved away from each other, imagine that?)

"Today, we have a treat! We'll be playing the 'Royal Dating Game'! So, get into your groups and quickly revise your essays on your Queen or King – then pick somebody to represent your group. That person should then report to the front of the room."

The brunette sighed, making his way to the other four boys in his group. They looked rather unproductive today.

"Hummel," One boy spoke with a gruff tone and an even gruffer face, "We've decided that since you're in the Warblers, you'll be our rep. Good confidence builder and all that."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue (because it was a natural reaction for him), but closed it and shrugged.

"Alright."

He should've made a comment about how he didn't need confidence because he had plenty of it already, or how the twitchy kid in their group would be in more need of a boost than he, (the kid _was_ on debate, supposedly.) but he decided against it. Aside from "Twitchy", the other guys were all decidedly bigger than him – Neanderthal material, if you will.

Besides, they were all in Lasaile House. And everybody knew about the rivalry between Lasaile and Quincey Houses. I mean, even Kurt knew. Of course luck has it that he's stuck with them, being on Quincey.

Kurt tried to ignore David and Wes' laughter as he stepped to the front of the room. At least his topic was interesting, if decidedly _female_. In many ways, Kurt could compare himself to Anne Boleyn. Quick wit, good looks, impeccable fashion taste (didn't you see _The Other Boleyn Girl_?)

"Fantastic!" Professor Reinstein strode to the side of the room, eyeing the "candidates" for whatever they were going to do…

The candidates, who were all, in fact, Warblers. Blaine, Kurt (obviously), Wes, David, Thad, Jeff, and… _Flint_.

A kid raised his hand, "Professor, you haven't explained what they're supposed to be doing."

"Isn't it obvious?" The large man asked, "It's called The Royal _Dating Game_. These boys will be reenacting a dating game show! Now, where's our bachelor?"

"Oh my Gaga, this isn't happening…" Kurt muttered, face flushing when Blaine meekly raised his hand.

Wes nudged him, "El oh el, Kurt! This is a perfect opportunity for you! Reinstein always grades on performance for these things."

Kurt deadpanned, "Did you honestly just say LOL? Which one of us is gay again?"

Thankfully, before Wes said something that would make him question the boy's sexuality anymore then he already had, Professor Reinstein spoke in a thunderous tone, "Gentleman, I present to you tonight's lucky bachelor, the great King of England, Henry VIII!"

Blaine struck his most dapper pose, throwing on an unfairly charming smile before sitting down in a computer chair.

"Now, your Majesty, tell us what you'd like to see in a your future Queen…"

* * *

The fact that Blaine could describe "himself" as ridiculously horny made Kurt die a little. (It also kind of turned him on, but shh!). The fact that their teacher didn't even bat an eye to it also made Kurt question everybody's sanity in this school. David must've seen his expression, because soon enough, he was explaining,

"It's like Wes said before, it's all about show to Reinstein, besides his blatant favoritism. This will basically decide whether he likes you or not. Just put on a good front, and you could be singing 'twinkle, twinkle, little star' for all he'd care. Trust me, Wes did that once."

"Why am I not surprised?" The countertenor remarked dryly.

"Fantastic!" Professor Reinstein chuckled, "Now, to decide the course of bachelorettes, I'd like for each of you to come over here and pick a number out of this hat."

One by one, each of the "bachelorettes" reached into a hat that Reinstein had whipped out from… somewhere.

_Please not first, please not first…_ Kurt prayed.

He reached into the bowler (which he hoped he would never see his teacher wearing – _not_ with his body structure.) and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"What'd you get, Kurt?" Wes asked, "David got third, lame. I, however, being the amazing person I am, got first, just like with marriage."

"I got sixth." Kurt smiled – it was great, especially from a competition point-of-view.

"Our first bachelorette is… the Spanish Princess – Catherine of Aragon!"

The class clapped politely as Wes rose, raising his hands above his head and doing a "rock on" sign. David booed.

"My dearest Henry…" Wes began, in an awful Spanish accent.

* * *

"- and that is why you should pick me as your Queen once again. Because, _I love yooooooou_." Wes' hand slid down Blaine's cheek.

Blaine shuddered (in what Kurt really hoped was _disgust_.)

"Very good, very good," Professor Reinstein showed no ill will to the handsy gestures between the two boys, "Next up – the motherly Catherine Paar!"

Thad, whose hands were slipped casually inside his pant pockets, strolled over to Blaine and politely bowed his head. When he started to speak, (in a normal tone, thankfully), David groaned.

When Kurt shot him a confused look, he merely whispered, "Thad's totally got something up his sleeve."

* * *

"-and I made sure all of your children were loved equally, even if they weren't mine, because I loved you, Henry, and I wanted you to be happy in the last few years of your life. In fact-"

Thad knelt on the floor, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing it at his eyes, "I still do. So, I hope you'll pick me to be your wife again."

And then he started to sob into his handkerchief.

Kurt stared at Thad. Thad, who was most definitely the most composed and formal member of the council, (because, honestly? Who else speaks like they're in a Shakespearian play?). Blaine took one of Thad's hands, patting it gently.

"How touching." Professor Reinstein dabbed at his own eyes, "Now, for our very own English_women_, Jane Seymour!"

David hopped up, skipped over to Blaine and proceeded to sit in Blaine's lap. Blaine tried (and failed) to not look amused.

Fortunately, David didn't produce a horrid British accent (though later, he'll admit it would've been a good idea, and'll thank Kurt for future reference), so Kurt just thought Wes was crazy. Craz_ier_.

"-and unlike the rest of your wives, I gave you a lovely baby boy! I was faithful too- unlike that _whore_, Anne Boleyn!"

Kurt gasped, shooting David a dirty look.

"And I loved you – and it was obvious you loved me too – you buried me in your private tomb, planning to be buried beside me way before your own death!"

David's face was dangerously close to Blaine's, hands slipping down to Blaine's waist. Blaine's hands, Kurt (shockingly) observed, were clutching David's thigh, and the whole sight made the countertenor a little nauseous. Maybe Wes and David slipped something into his food during lunch and he was hallucinating or something.

"Wonderful!"

The man was crazy, Kurt decided. Scratch that, everybody in this whole entire school _was_ crazy.

"Now, the Germanic Princess – Anne of Cleaves!"

Wes and David booed. It was Jeff though, so that was understandable. Wes had a problem with Jeff for inexplicable reasons, and David basically mimicked Wes because, (and Kurt quotes) "Everything Asians do are automatically awesome." What that had to do with mirroring the boy's movements, Kurt had no idea.

Just when the junior thought only Wes _was_ strange enough to pitch his voice, Jeff spoke in a falsetto so high, he could've cracked glass. He walked towards Blaine, who in turn, rolled his chair away from the bleach-blonde haired boy with a barely covered grimace.

"I know that I'm not all that pretty…"

* * *

"- but I know how to cook and to clean and will always stay loyal because, let's face it, who else would wanna get with this?"

Jeff pointed to himself. At that, Wes called out, "I dunno, a blind person?"

Jeff ignored him, getting closer to Blaine, who was still trying not to look repulsed.

"I loved you, but knew you didn't love me, so I let us divorce. I gave you a second chance, so know I'm pleading you to give me one."

"How touching!" Professor Reinstein exclaimed (and honestly, this guy's cheery exterior was starting to grate Kurt's nerves.) He called forth another 'bachelorette'.

"Our fifth contestant – the promiscuous Catherine Howard!"

Flint stood up; stalking his way towards Blaine like a predator would their prey. He stopped before Kurt, engaging in a small staring contest before continuing on his way.

The junior growled.

Wes and David shouted things like, "Slut!" and, "Hoe!"

Flint paced around Blaine a few times, stopping behind him, "I may have been young…"

* * *

"- and it was always said that I gave you a real," Flint pressed himself to the back of the chair, dropping his head to whisper into Blaine's ear, "_zest_ for life."

Blaine's eyes fluttered shut.

Kurt gagged.

Flint spun the chair around so that he was basically straddling Blaine.

"Isn't that a bit _much_?"

Kurt asked loudly, face flushing with barely constrained anger (and jealousy). Flint shot him a rather dirty glare, but Reinstein shook himself out of his little 'eyes-glazed-over' world.

Gross.

"Right, right, last but not least, the sultry Anne Boleyn!"

Kurt stood up, scoffing at the voice that sounded suspiciously like Flint's, calling out, "Whore!"

It was time to put on his game face – and that meant half-lidded eyes and a rather enticing smile.


	2. Chapter 2

_(a/n) Apologies, apologies! I tried to get this up as fast as I could. Unfortunately, this means it's about five hundred to one thousand words shorter hen it'd normally be (or, I'd like it to be, anyway.)_

_I was just... so overwhelmed with the response this fic got. It really made my night - everybody who faved, alerted, or/and left a comment. I really can't explain how much this means to me. I won't go off on a mushy rant about it, but thank you. So much. I'm going to make an effort to continue to please you guys. That's all I really want to do, in the end._

_I'm also glad that everybody likes this idea. I was a little hesitant, because my life is boring, and a more boring version of this happened. But all of you responded so enthusiastically. ASJANFSAFSLKA THANK YOU._

_You make me feel like I actually know what I'm talking about. And, uhm... don't fall asleep in history class. _

_And the song. It had been stuck in my head when I wrote this. Don't judgeeeee. (especially because whenever I hear a Evanescence song, I can practically hear Chris Colfer singing it.)_

* * *

"My dearest King..."

Kurt honestly didn't realize his voice could come out like that. All low and practically purring. He was pleased to see Blaine's eyes darken with appreciation. In the background, he heard Wes and David his in disapproval, calling him a cheater. How was he cheating? David sat in Blaine's lap for Gaga's sake!

"I think it's strange, that you wouldn't choose me again right away."

The brunette trailed around Blaine, letting a hand glide across his shoulders. Blaine shivered in response, goosebumps forming on the back of his neck, the exposed skin in which Kurt had touched. The junior allowed a smile to worm its way onto his face, twirling around until he was facing Blaine once more.

"I know it sounds... cocky of me." Kurt bit his lip, as if pondering what words he'd choose to speak next, staring at Blaine, who was having trouble... breathing, it seemed. Did he just cross his legs? Kurt went on with his speech, talking about how witty and charming Anne Boleyn had been and how it was the reason Henry VIII chosen her in the first place (even if he was still technically married to Catherine of Aragon.)

"I was new and exciting..." Kurt trailed off, leaning against the blackboard, careful not to get chalk dust on his uniform. He used his foot to hook the chair Blaine was sitting on and dragged it forward, towards him.

"I was... different, after all – three of your wives were named Catherine." Kurt joked, eliciting a chuckle from Blaine.

"Hey, my name is Anne!" Jeff spoke up, resulting in glares from Kurt (and Wes, but then again, when wasn't Wes glaring at Jeff?) and shushing noises from the professor (and Blaine.)

"Yes, but "she's" the pretty one, and you aren't, so shut up."

David slapped Jeff on the back of the head, bro-fisting with Wes.

Kurt focused back on Blaine, banishing images of him _committing mass murder, _and went on to say how Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had met in secret and how apparent it was that Henry had cared for her and wanted her.

"You wrote me letters, tons and tons, even though you loathed writing. You turned the whole country upside-down just for a chance for my hand in marriage. If that isn't love... I don't know what is." He gave a coy smile, when an idea popped into his head. Kurt glanced around, noting the lack of interest in his classmates glazed-over eyes, until it fell back onto Blaine. Blaine, who was staring at him so intensely – and he heard the word, unspoken between them.

_Courage_.

* * *

"_My hands are searching for you,_

_My arms are outstretched towards you_."

Kurt started to sing, quite possibly surprising everybody in the room (including Blaine, who should've seen it coming). Said boy's hazel eyes widened in surprise (especially at Kurt's song choice – how in the world did Kurt even _know_ about Flyleaf?) The brunette strode forward, grabbing Blaine's hands in his own.

"_I feel you on my fingertips,_

_My tongue dances behind my lips, for you."_

Kurt licked his bottom lip in testament, Blaine trying so very hard not to pull the boy down and-

"_This fire rising through my being – burning,_

_I'm not used to seeing you._"

Kurt dropped the senior's hands, the latter almost whining in a very ungentlemanly way at the loss of sweet, _sweet_ contact.

"_I'm alive, I'm alive!_"

Kurt's hands clenched themselves, forming fists while he broke into the chorus.

"_I can feel you, all around me,_

_Thickening the air I'm breathing,_

_Holding on to what I'm feeling,_

_Savoring this heart that's healing._"

He stepped closer to the curly-haired boy, bracing his hands on the swivel chair's armrests. He leaned in close, lips sinfully near Blaine's skin, breath warm and moist against the older boy's ear.

"_My hands float up above me,_

_And you whisper you _love_ me._"

The last part came out barely above a whisper, deep and raspy, making a pool of heat twist and churn with _pleasure_, wanting nothing more then to take this boy, this beautiful boy back to his room and do all things unpure and undapper to him- _damnit! Keep your cool, Blaine! This is the second time within the _hour_ you've thought of something dirty!_

Kurt saw shock etching it's way onto Blaine's face, unnoticeable to anybody who wasn't studying that face like Kurt was. He mistook for him being the cause and made to pull back.

Blaine was quick to stop him.

Unfortunately, with Blaine's less than adequate mindset, this meant latching onto the pale boy's wrists and _tugging_.

And that's how Kurt fell, front first, into Blaine's lap. At the contact (more contact then either of them have ever indulged in with each other), both teenagers' breath hitched, stopping Kurt from singing.

"And that's," Kurt cleared his throat, trying to get it back to its effeminate timbre, after a few moments of silence (he realized _somebody_ needed to speak), "that's why you should pick me to be your wife again. Because even though the others say they love you, _I'm the only one who means it_."

It dawned on Blaine, then and there, that Kurt wasn't talking about King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn anymore. Blaine himself, could probably give a rat's behind about the two at this point.

"Kurt..." Blaine whispered, "I-"

"That was wonderful!" A sudden, _unwelcome_ voice boomed, "Truly inspirational. Mr. Hummel, wherever did you learn to act like that?"

Kurt stood up, holding back a sigh of frustration and pasting on a clearly forced and strained smile.

"It's not acting if the feelings are true." he murmured, before sitting back down with the other "bachelorettes".

* * *

"Well," Professor Reinstein's cheery disposition was starting to annoy Kurt, "Now that everyone's settled into their seats, let's take a vote on who 'King Henry' should pick as his wife. When I call them out, they'll stand up, and the class will raise their hands to vote."

He looked around the room, disregarding the glazed expressions on some of his students' faces.

"Okay; Catherine of Aragon?"

Wes stood up, his hand out in a 'come hither' gesture, before raising it,

"Raise your hands, my loyal subjects!"

Near him, Kurt saw David starting to raise his hand, but caught Kurt's eye and quickly set it back into his lap.

"Sorry!" he whispered sheepishly, "He's so convincing."

After counting, it looked as if Wes had half the class voting for him.

"Next up, Catherine Paar!"

Thad stood up, dutifully raising his hand.

He got two votes. (The two, who were in his group.)

"Jane Seymour!"

David jumped up, grinning from ear to ear, popping his hand up.

When he only got four votes, he booed.

"Anne of Cleaves!"

Jeff stood, raising his hand.

No one else did. (Wes made cricket noises.)

"Catherine Howard!"

Flint stood, a smirk in place, both hands resting lazily on his hips, before one made its way above his head. He sent a smirk Kurt's way when he got five votes. (some of them being from Kurt's own group, the traitors.)

The look, however, faded, as soon as he saw Kurt wasn't even paying attention to him. He was off staring at-

Oh.

_Blaine._

Who hadn't raised his hand yet.

"And lastly, Anne Boleyn!"

Kurt took is turn out of his seat, blushing when Blaine turned to face him. Kurt, of course, raised his hand, very pleased when Blaine did the same.

And Kurt suddenly ended up with seven votes.

* * *

After voting, all was forgotten (almost). Ike their class didn't just spend over half an hour playing a dating game. It wasn't forgotten by a certain countertenor, however. In fact, in his head, it was being replayed, over, and over, and over, and _over_-

Said daydreamer's phone buzzed not-so-subtly, jolting him from his revere.

Kurt was just thankful his teacher was so oblivious. (not like the classmates surrounding him, whose reactions varied from being amused, to thinking it scandalous.)

**Blaine**: _Meet me outside Quincey House after class._

When Kurt looked back up from his iPhone, he found himself staring at Blaine (and the front side of his head, not the back.) Blaine, who had twisted the upper part of his body around, in order to face him. Flushing, Kurt could only nod his head a couple times, most likely making a fool of himself for _some_ reason or another.

"Mr. Anderson, please turn back around!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Wow, how late is this, omg. So sorry guys. I'm really bad at updating, but this is the last bit! I'm not very happy with it personally, but I hope it isn't too terrible._

_I'm so thankful for the response that you guys made, seriously, it brought tears to my eyes._

_So thank you, and enjoy~_

* * *

Walking back to Quincey House was nerve-wracking, to say in the least. Kurt was almost to the point of hyperventilating, cursing the wind that was ruffling his hair and cursing that goddamned people who thought it'd be a good idea to wear _uniforms_. They were drab, unflattering, and he needed to stand out in moments like these, not conform! When class had let out, it was a rush of bodies and rustling papers, David and Wes casually barring the brunette's way to Blaine with conversation and posed figures. The hallway was about as perfect an opportunity to find him as a needle in a haystack would have been.

"Kurt?"

Of course, only Kurt would be able to reflect on events leading prior to this meeting and _not_ notice the one boy he was crushing on walk right up to him.

"Oh, hi."

Wow, that was cool. _Not_.

It was all Kurt could do before doing something he'd regret, like, I don't know, taking the curly-headed boy to the nearest room and getting (as Santana would say) "wanky".

"Listen, Kurt, about History class…"

Kurt cut over him, "No, Blaine, don't."

The latter stopped, looking at the other junior and Kurt took this as a good sign, continuing,

"I realize I was way out of line, and I apologize. We've only known each other for a couple of months while the other boys have known you for a couple of _years_. So, of course they'd be justified to act like that around you. I hope you realize non of it was personal," The countertenor got stiff at that; formal and polite to a point where Blaine knew it wasn't right, knew that Kurt was uncomfortable.

"I just heard that I needed to be a good actor and might've overdone my performance in a way even Rachel Berry would've been appalled at."

"Kurt," Blaine was a gentleman; therefore he didn't cut Kurt off, because that was impolite. It didn't mean, however, that he had to agree with the words being said.

"Don't be an idiot."

It didn't stop Kurt from looking taken aback, almost making Blaine apologize and take his words back.

_Almost.  
_

"I understand I'm not the most competent at relationships or romance, but I do understand _love_."

His hazel eyes softened and he smiled,

"And I wanted you to know that I love you too."

Kurt's smile was so wide it threatened to split his face in two.

"Blaine-"

"Ah, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Hummel! Just the two lads I was looking for!"

Kurt suddenly developed homicidal tendencies towards History teachers.

"Professor Reinstein, sir!" Blaine greeted, slipping his hand into Kurt's.

The action wasn't gone unnoticed, "I'm sorry; I wasn't interrupting anything, was I? David and Wes kindly pointed me in your direction."

"No," Kurt grated out, forcing a smile, thinking violent things were going to happen to two certain councilmen, "Nothing that can't be taken care of later."

Reinstein clapped his hands, "Fantastic! Walk with me boys."

They strolled into Quincey, hushing their voices as they reached the common room.

"Have I got a proposition for you two…"

* * *

Some could say that coming into one of Professor Reinstein's AP History classes were boring, but over the course of the week, they were quite the opposite.

It was some type of extra credit, the teacher had explained, getting Kurt, Blaine, Wes, David, Thad, Jeff, and Flint out of various classes to "perform" their skit to the other classes.

And with Kurt and Blaine _officially_ going out, they could alter some parts for their pleasure, like say, adding a couple of kisses into the mix. And while there were many faux jeers from the other contestants (not so much faux with Flint) everyone was so happy that they had _finally_ gotten together.

* * *

As the boys relaxed in the Warbler rehearsal room, David and Wes struck up conversation concerning the two lovebirds.

"You guys, there was so much sexual frustration between you two that we couldn't believe either of you didn't start, like, dry-humping-"

Kurt plugged his ears, "Don't need to hear this, la la la!"

"Blaine," David wondered, "How do you even mange to tap that? All the prude-ness that he's radiating off right now…"

Blaine swatted David, "He's not some possession I siphon off sexual deeds from, David!"

The two turned to Wes and Kurt, the latter saying various sexual things to try and see which would make Kurt blush the hardest.

"I've always thought "thrust" was such a dirty word, I mean listen to it in a sentence: 'I'm going to thrust my-"

"Kurt! Come over here." Blaine laughed, dragging his boyfriend by the arm, winding his own arms around the countertenor's neck and resting their foreheads together.

Ignoring the retching noises Wes and David were making, the two boys shared a sweet kiss. Just as Blaine was about to pull back, Kurt swiped his tongue across the other junior's bottom lip, sticking it in Blaine's oral cavity when he opened his mouth to moan.

"Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew, I can never un-see that!" Wes hollered.

"My eyes! They're burning from all the gaaaaaaay!" David cried.

Kurt hooked an arm around Blaine's, using his other hand to wipe at a small trail of saliva.

"For your information, David, I am not a prude." He said haughtily.

"I'll take your word for it next time, okay?"

"Why'd you do that to us? You should be thanking us!" Wes tutted, moving to the council desk to grab his beloved gavel.

"What, why should we be thanking you?" Blaine asked incredulously, regaining his senses, which had been a little hard to do when your boyfriend casually shoves his tongue down your throat.

"Because," David said matter-of-factly, "We were the ones to suggest the idea to professor Reinstein."

"Actually, I know a few other things I'd like to do instead of thanking you-"

Blaine glared, looking at Kurt for conformation.

Kurt had other ideas. He was silent for a moment, clutching onto Blaine's arm a little harder than necessary.

"Thank you." He said with sincerity.

Wes and David smiled, taking their seats as councilmen.

"Attention Warblers, the meeting is about to begin."

* * *

_**End.**_


End file.
